


Intangible

by Im_The_Doctor (Bofur1)



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Abandonment, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Feels, Blood, Caretaking, Caring, Chase is there for him, Companions, Concern, Dreams and Nightmares, Drowning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fear, Help, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Jameson has issues, Late at Night, Loneliness, Loss of Trust, Mid-Canon, Multiple Selves, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Panic, Platonic Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:35:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofur1/pseuds/Im_The_Doctor
Summary: More often than not, Jameson forgets his nightmares as soon as he wakes up, which allows him to easily fall asleep again. Then there are the other nights, theworsenights. Tonight is one of those.





	Intangible

More often than not, the nightmares were intangible—rushing, blurring, scattering until the faces in them were unrecognizable and the voices were muffled behind glass that hemmed him in on all sides. As soon as he woke, Jameson would forget whatever it was he had been dreaming of. It always left him with an unsettled feeling, but once he lay back down and focused on calming his breathing, he was usually able to doze off again.

Then there were the other nights, the  _worse_ nights. Tonight was one of those nights.

The others were before him, their faces haggard and pale, battered and bruised. Jackieboy was in a low defensive stance, arms held down and away from his sides to keep the others shielded behind him. Tangible fear and rage pulsed from his whole body as he stared Jameson down, breathing hard.  

“ _What have you done? What have you done?_ ” he hissed soundlessly. All Jameson could do was shake his head in return, bewildered. As soon as he started to shift forward, however, Jackieboy tensed, growling.

 **“Jackieboy? Good sir, I—I—Why won’t you let me near?”** Jameson stammered, stifling a cough as a burn rose in the back of his throat. Somehow in this dream he was unsurprised to hear the sound of his  _own_  voice—cleaner, higher-pitched and more British than Jack’s—and more surprised at being unable to hear Jackieboy’s. He knew what he was saying, though; it was easy enough to read his lips.

“ _You’ve hated us all this time, you’ve…you’ve been playing your long game and we’ve been completely blind_ …”

**“What? No…no, that’s not true in the slightest! What do you think of me? Why wǫul͝d͢ ͜yo̴u—?”**

The burn in the back of his throat strangled the rest of his words. He coughed, gasped and coughed again, something warm, wet and coppery sliding over his tongue until he doubled over and spewed it out—but more came after it. He retched, panted raggedly, choked and retched again. It was too much—hot, thick metallic liquid was filling his chest like he was a deep well, drowning his heart and his lungs—all he could do was bring up more and more and more, until the pool of blood around him was enough to reach his ankles, lapping at his socks and pant legs.

 **“Wh͡at’s w͢r͢on͡g with ͞me͟?͟** **Wh͟a͟t’ş _wrong̛_ wi̸th me̡?!̧”** he choked out as soon as he could breathe enough to speak, clutching at his throat as his voice rasped and screeched brokenly.  **“P̴l̵ea̸se…m-merc͘i̶es̴, ple͢ase,͢ somęon̸e _fix ͞me_ —!”**

“As if anyone could  _ever_  fix you…As if anyone would ever want to.”

With a sharp crack, someone’s fist collided with the underside of his jaw, sending him reeling. The pool of blood didn’t make any splash as he fell but clung to him, dragging on his clothing, weighing him down. Gasping and crying, he fought against it, trying to pry himself free. The more he struggled, the more ensnared he became.

**“No—ņo!”**

Panicked, he looked up, locking desperate eyes with Chase, who stood overhead. There was no mercy in his face, no pity—no emotion. He was utterly numb, staring down at him as if he were merely another puddle from the last rain.

 **“Hel̛p̧ me! ͝ _H͡el̴p ̛me!_ ”** he howled with a voice that was no longer his own, body glitching and spasming and crumbling as he thrashed against the pool he was sinking into. Chase blinked, flinched slightly at that, a glimmer of pain passing through his eyes, and Jameson threw himself at it with everything he had.

**“Ch͘a̢se?̵! _C̵h͜ase͘!_  Çha̷se, ͘ple̵ase, d͜on̶’t l͢et m̢e—please, s͟a͡v̡e m͘e! I ca҉n’t— _I'͝ll͠ d̷r͘ơw͜n!_ ”**

Chase swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away and shrugging hopelessly as he mumbled, his words barely audible: “Go right ahead. It’s not as if you’re real. You’re just another puppet; Jack didn’t even create you,  _Anti_  did. I can’t believe…” His voice hitched then and he shuddered, pressing his eyes closed as he turned away. “I can’t believe I actually fell for it. I can’t believe I actually  _cared_  for you.”

Before Jameson could cry after him, clawed hands emerged from the pool engulfing him, wrapping around his throat from behind and wrenching him down, blood pouring into his eyes and his nose and his mouth, darkness smothering him, pulling him further and further down, beyond hope.

He only lurched awake when he thrashed too far, rolled off the bed and hit the floor with a weighty thud, his last scream unheard to even his own ears. Scrambling upright, he instinctively clutched at his throat one last time, shaking his head violently against the terror, the intrusive thoughts, the tears—It was too much. Bolting from his bedside and nearly falling as he stubbed his toes on various obstacles in the darkness, he burst out of his room and sprinted down the hall, flinging Chase’s door open and pawing desperately at the light switches on the wall immediately inside.

Surprisingly, Chase didn’t wake as soon as the lights clicked on; he slept facing the wall, his arm loosely curled around a body pillow that lay against his chest. Jameson stared at him with wide, near-wild eyes for several seconds, wondering if he’d stir, and when he didn’t he rushed at him, latching onto his shoulder and shaking him urgently until he startled awake.

“Huh-wha—? What the…?” he slurred, keeping ahold of his body pillow as he turned over and then promptly flew upright, concern lighting his eyes and bringing him around within seconds. “JJ? Jem, what is it? What’s happened?”

 **“I—I—”**  Now that he was here and Chase was across from him, alarmed and protective and everything he was meant to be, Jameson had no idea what to say to him. A stronger round of tears blurred his vision as he helplessly hid his face in his hands and Chase promptly threw his body pillow toward the wall, scooting after it so there would be a space and tugging on Jameson’s wrist.

“Here, c’mere and tell me what happened,” he urged worriedly, to which the younger Ego promptly dove into the bed and buried his face in the pillow. It wasn’t long before Chase’s fingers were carding through his hair and he was shushing him apprehensively, even though he sobbed without a sound. “S’okay, Jem…it’s okay…”

 **“It’s not, it’s truly not!”**  he burst out, his speech slide shivering violently in midair over him. Chase pursed his lips at it, moving his hand from his hair to his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he questioned softly.

**“H-How can I be sure you care to?”**

“What? Because I asked!”

**“But how do I know you don’t ask out of s-some—some obligation to me or b-because you want to know I’m really safe?!”**

“Well, of  _course_  I want to know you’re safe, Jem! I want to make sure you—”

 **“If I’m safe to be around _you_. If…I’m safe to be around anyone,”** Jameson sobbed, only tightening his grip on the pillowcase. At this rate, he was going to leave dents in it from his fingernails. **“If you really d-do want to care about me or if you should never have _bothered_  with me when I could do something to h-hurt you, even if it’s not on purpose!”**

“What are you even saying?” Chase demanded incredulously, using the grip he had on Jameson’s shoulder to pull him away from the pillow and force him to look up. “Jem, you really think I’d let you in here, I’d ask you if you were okay and want to talk about it with you if I didn’t care?”

 **“But what if you _stop_  caring?!”** the younger Ego blurted out, his breath coming hard and frantic.

“That’s never going to happen!” Chase cried, waving an arm through Jameson’s next tearful protests and then winding that arm around his back, pulling him close against his chest and speaking over his slides as they clicked past faster than he could read them. “No, no, listen to me, you listen. You’ve gotta trust me, JJ, that’s never gonna happen. I can’t just  _stop_  caring about you—and why would I? You’re one of us! You’re part of the family, an important and unique and special part, and we’re all in this together, okay? There’s no way I’m giving up on you.”

Without warning Jameson stilled, a few of his fingers catching on Chase’s shirt and tightening on it. Chase wasn’t sure whether or not it was out of fear until his next speech slide faded in, faint and tremulous.

**“Even if I turn out to be a puppet? Or if I _become_  one?”**

Chase gaped at it for several seconds, dumbstruck, until he felt Jameson starting to shiver against him anew. Emotion stinging against his lashes, he slid properly down next to him, tucking Jamie’s head under his chin and exhaling shakily.

“That’s not going to happen either,” he whispered, his damp eyes fixed on the shadows cast by the lights in his room. “I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> There really aren't enough Chase and Jameson fics here, I _swear_ -


End file.
